Short story-I caught you healing

I caught you healing... I stood at the door of a colorful house decorated with patterns symbolizing youth and creativity. On the walls of the small hut I could see the hands and prints that looked like those of a grown man who thought it would be clever and attractive if he dipped his hands in different coloured paint and put it on his wall. I found it odd that he chose to decorate his home this way, unusual for a man. A man. His masculine fingers lay all across and around the home he turned into a canvas. No one could tell him that what he had done to his home was strange, if not hideous. It disgraced anyone related to him . Especially his father. But he wasn't bothered. Strange as he was he remained true to what he wanted. He stood. He was the first and probably the last to do it. I guess it was true, the person I had come to see wanted people to see from a mile away that he would leave a mark that would set him apart and make him different from anyone else in his village. Even if it killed him. Instead of opening the front door. I wanted to meet the person he was when no one was around. The real man he became when the attention wasn't all on him. I went to the back of the house hoping to discover truths about him that he'd never tell me face to face. In the yard I saw beer cans stacked in a neat and tidy box waiting to be picked up by the dustbin truck. It was Monday, the truck only came on Fridays. It meant that he drank this weekend. Too much. And alone. The cans were arranged by brand and size, the bottles arranged by colour. The arrangement meant he was sober and regretful when he packed. He sorted out his cans so they could be recycled, turning his weakness into something positive out of guilt. While he packed away the cans the day before, he probably thought and observed carefully each sorrow he tried and failed to drown through each can and bottle. It was as though while he packed arranged and cleaned each can he spoke to it in anger and tears cursing it to never return! I went to his back door maybe with the hope that I'd catch him doing something that he shouldn't with someone he should be with. Something that exposed his imperfections. So he'd be like me. I looked at the red door and could smell that a coat of fresh paint had just been added. So I didn't knock, I just pulled the door handle, got in and shut the door as if it was my home. It wasn't. I came to do a job then leave. Opening the door slowly... I had caught you healing. I walked in on you, shoes off, no socks. Shirt unbuttoned, tie on the floor and pants in a neat bundle on a chair. Naked and unashamed you stood in the middle of the room standing in attention and confidence with nothing on but a wooden cross around your neck. You looked up at me, knowing I was in the room you didn't hide yourself. In shock I just stood. Speechless. It was what you wanted. Instead of greeting him, I couldn't help but stare at the dark glistening figure that demanded and forcefully took all the attention it wanted from me. I looked away and at the wooden table across the room, a large picture frame lay face down cracked glass surrounding it, an empty box of pain killers strangely positioned next to it. A candle burned brightening the dark room as if to say "I was blind but now I see" . The room was extremely neat, DVD's stacked in a neat row near his small television set. Raging bull, Hugo, Tsotsi are all I could make out from where I was. I couldn't stand to look at his nakedness so I turned my back to him blushing with embarrassment for coming in. I apologised for invading his privacy, I tried to leave, he begged me to stay. I did. He asked that I see him for all he is with no boundaries, no fears, no cover ups. Just truth. So I looked at his chiseled body, I saw his teary face. Pulled up a chair, sat down and listened. He began... "Her name was Zoe".